Chapter 8

A week passed and he heard nothing from Julie, Erica, or any of the boys. He decided they needed to make the first move. Otherwise he might dredge up unhappy feelings.

Saturday Julie called.

“I only asked you to behave, not disappear,” she said.

“I don’t remember you asking me to behave,” he said. “All I remember was you were unhappy.”

“Everything has changed,” she complained. “I don’t know how to be happy with all the changes.”

He refrained from repeating himself about her needing to get laid. It didn’t even need to be him, though he’d had several fantasies about that. She just needed to climb back onto the horse.

“Life changes all the time, Honey Bun,” he said.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Don’t call me sweetheart or darling or honey bun.”

“Okaaaay,” he said.

“Those names are too intimate,” she said.

“I’ve called you all those things for years,” he said.

“Yes, but that was before you showed me your dick.”

“Um, not to be difficult, but as I recall it, you exposed my dick. I didn’t show it to you.”

“Don’t be difficult. Just come to dinner.”

“Okay. How’s Erica taking to becoming a nun?”

“Not well. That’s one reason I want you to come to dinner. She needs to see you.”

“I thought that wasn’t exactly cool,” he said.

“Just seeing her and maybe giving her a hug doesn’t mean you have to fuck her!” hissed Julie.

“Five dollars,” he said, smugly.

She hung up on him.

He brought a bottle of the wine he knew Julie liked. She took it without a word and then he was engulfed in his niece’s passionate hug.

“I miss you so much!” she said into his neck.

“Your mother says I can hug you, but not fuck you,” he whispered. He thought he was teasing. She pushed him away and glared at him.

“Don’t talk like that. It’s hard enough being away from you without you saying things like that.”

“Got it,” he said, mildly confused. The last time they’d talked, the concept of “fucking” was off the table. Now it bothered her?

She was back for another hug. She looked to see if anyone was watching and, when she decided nobody was, she kissed him, with tongue.

“Man I miss that,” she sighed, finally backing away.

“Which is one of the lessons I was trying to teach you,” he said. “The sex drive is very strong. It can get out of control easily. This is why I will not allow you to date until you’re twenty-five.”

This time she knew he was teasing. She crossed her arms and tried to look independent.

“When I turn eighteen I’m going to date you. Then we’ll see.”

“What will we see?” he asked.

“Would you two abandon the foreplay and come help me set the table?” called Julie from where she’d been watching them.

“What foreplay?” asked Randy as he bounded into the room from the hallway.

“I was teasing,” said Julie, smoothly.

“You shouldn’t tease about stuff like that,” said Randy. “Foreplay is serious stuff.”

“And you know this how?” Julie asked, archly.

Randy blinked and it was clear to all that he wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Health class,” he said. “They said that in health class.”

It was an obvious lie but nobody called him on it.

Supper wasn’t exactly strained, but it wasn’t relaxed, either. Chad was there that night, which was unusual, because he was often out with his friends or girlfriend, instead of at home with his family. The twins were their usual aloof selves and Erica seemed preoccupied. Bob and Julie glanced at each other every once in a while, but there seemed to be no topic of conversation that lasted for more than a few sentences. After supper the vaguely uncomfortable mood continued. Julie assigned cleanup to the twins, who complained and made that task take three times as long as it would have if they’d just gotten to it. Chad said he was going to his girlfriend’s house and disappeared.

“I should probably go,” said Bob.

“Why?” asked Erica and Julie together, as if they’d practiced it.

“I’m working on a big project,” he lied. He was worried that Erica might try something, like asking him to tuck her in. And it was obvious that, her invitation to supper notwithstanding, Julie was ill at ease in his presence.

“Did you drive?” asked Julie.

He shook his head.

“Walked. It’s a nice evening.”

“I’ll walk you home,” she said.

He was surprised, but didn’t show it. He set a slow pace, and Julie kept ending up in front of him. She ran regularly and moving slowly just wasn’t in her genes. Again, the conversation flagged and they ended up just walking together without saying much. When they got to his house, Julie diverted to the porch swing and sat on it. Bob sat down beside her. It was as if being able to sit opened the floodgates of her emotion.

“I can’t stop thinking about what happened,” she said.

He had a pretty good idea of what she was referring to.

“I guess that’s normal,” he said. “Nothing like that has happened in the last five years.”

“I never used to think of you that way,” she said, staring out into the fading light. “Now that’s all I can think about.”

“Think of me that way?” he prodded.

She glanced at him.

“You know. Excited.”

“You were pretty memorable, too. I have to say, you’re in pretty good shape for having given birth to four children.”

“My boobs are saggy,” she sighed.

“I think I already voted on how I feel about them,” he said.

Again, she looked at him.

“What are we going to do, Bob? I know we can’t just turn our emotions off, but it’s a really bad idea for us to mess with a relationship that’s worked very well for the last seventeen years. The last thing I want is for tension to drive us apart. I had to beg you to come to dinner as it is!”

Bob didn’t comment. They swung in the silence for maybe a minute.

“Before you started dating Paul, did you ever go out with a guy who kissed you and it was awful?”

“What?”

“Did you ever go out with a guy who kissed you and that was the last time you went out with him because it was a bad kiss? I mean you could just tell nothing was going to happen during the kiss.”

“I suppose so. I don’t actually remember anything like that, but I’m sure it happened.”

“Maybe we should kiss, and it will be awful like that. And if it is, then that will make it easy to cool things down, right?”

“What if it isn’t bad?” she asked.

“Come on. The last man you kissed was Paul. You loved his kisses, right? What are the chances I could even begin to compete with that?” He blinked. “What I mean is that his kisses were special. No other guy could compete with that, right?”

“Do you really think so?”

“What have we got to lose?” he asked. “I mean it would probably be bad, right? We’re friends, so it would likely be kind of weird. You know ... icky?”

“Yeah!” she agreed. “That’s a good idea!”

There is a difference between wanting something to be true, hoping something will be true, and what reality actually serves up. In this case, as they leaned towards each other, moving in super slow motion, it was unclear whether that was because they were reluctant to touch lips ... or because the anticipation was palpable. To be honest, both had conflicting emotions. Each wanted the kiss to be off-putting ... but both wanted to complete the intimacy of a kiss. They ended up brushing lips, almost bouncing off of each other slightly, only to lean further and reestablish contact. All that touched were their lips, as they sat side by side, but what had been intended to be a brief, (hopefully) unsatisfying peck lingered as, slowly, the pressure of their lips increased, until warm lips seemed to weld themselves together. Maybe fifteen seconds passed before they reluctantly pulled apart.

“Crap! That didn’t suck at all,” she sighed.

Bob just kissed her again. This time he pressed harder and turned toward her.

This kiss was like an errant cigarette butt, tossed from the window of a speeding car. It was merely a glow at first, but the winds of passion and the dry grass of loss and loneliness united to create a conflagration that consumed them both. First they stood to embrace and then, as the kiss went on and on, and tongues got involved, there was that urgent feeling they portray so well in movies and TV, where the couple just can’t wait to get inside and get their clothes off so they can get to the serious business of slaking their sexual thirst.

While that portrayal is exciting, it’s Hollywood, and this slaking happened in sips rather than great gulps of cooling water.

Neither wanted to continue this on the porch, in the public view. Without discussing it, both went to his bedroom. There, the kisses were urgent and their embrace was ardent, but eventually his hands moved from her back to her bottom, and then up to caress the sides of her breasts. Her own hands roamed all over his back and the back of his head.

She stepped back, panting, and her fingers went to the buttons of the blouse she was wearing that night. He simply watched as, slowly, she released each button until the blouse hung, framing the plain, white bra she wore. No words were spoken as she shrugged the blouse off, catching it in one hand and draping it over one bedpost at the foot of his bed. Her bra followed and she paused, to let him look. When he licked his lips and his eyes darted to her face, she kept going, undoing her shorts and pushing them down to expose surprisingly lacy, pink panties.

She didn’t comment on how she was naked and he was fully dressed. She simply moved to him and started taking his clothes off. They went on the other bedpost. She contemplated his rock hard penis for a few seconds, and then gripped it to pull him to the bed.

Still, nothing was said. This was the kind of consensual, adult relationship Bob had mentioned to Erica. Both of them were on the same plane. There was no foreplay. The kisses had been foreplay aplenty, and when she pulled him down onto her and her legs spread wide, he moved almost carefully into place on his hands and knees and, as again she gripped him and pulled, he let her socket the tip of his cock in her soaking wet pussy.

He pushed, gently, staring into her eyes. Those eyes fluttered as she groaned, but then steadied as she reached for his cheeks to pull him in for another kiss.

He wasn’t violent or quick in his motions. He practically massaged her slowly, with long in and out strokes that paused when he was buried, so he could move his hips sideways once or twice, before pulling back out. Her back arched and her legs moved constantly, returning the massage by rubbing all over the back of his thighs and butt.

Her, “Oh ... oh ... ohhhhhh,” was the quietest orgasm she’d ever had. It didn’t wrack her body. It was sweet and seeped happiness into her body like stretching saturates the surrounding tissues with soothing sensations. A few minutes later his own “Ohhhhhh, Julie,” signaled his own release. The only difference was that with each spurt he released deep inside her, he gave a soft grunt.

It would have been perfect, except there was a loud thump that startled them both. Bob looked over his shoulder behind him to see his bedroom door swinging and he recognized, in hindsight, the sound of his door knob hitting the wall. In trying to figure out what had caused the door to open, he got off of Julie. He saw Erica lying on the floor, looking up at him. As Julie sat up, Erica jumped up off the floor.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped.

Then she ran and in the silence of the now dark house, her footfalls sounded too loud and numerous to be caused by one, young girl.

Bob looked at Julie. She was the first to speak.

“She must have followed us,” she said. “I’d better go talk to her.”

“Don’t leave,” said Bob, who realized that this fragile, new thing they had brought to life could die if it wasn’t nurtured properly. He didn’t know how to nurture this kind of relationship, but he knew, deep down, that for the first time in his life something more precious than gold had been offered to him.

“I have to,” she said, swinging her athletic legs over to the side of the bed. She stood and he stared, struck by how beautiful she looked with tousled hair, freshly fucked.